Page 13 of Perfect Date
We sit quietly again. I try to recall more conversation topics and feel annoyed that he’s not trying to contribute to the conversation.
Definitely deserving of a strike two.
This is turning out great so far, I think sarcastically.
“Your profile says you’re a ‘businessman’.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What exactly does that mean? What do you do?” I ask.
Eric’s whole demeanor changes before my eyes. Suddenly, he has personality - his eyes light up, a smile appears on his face and he seems really excited to answer the question. Guess I found the magic conversation topic, “I’m an entrepreneur - started my own business in the entertainment industry.”
Oh. My. God.
Please don’t be porn. Please don’t be porn, please, please, please don’t be porn.
I can’t stop those words repeating like a mantra in my mind. On one hand I feel bad, it’s not my place to judge, but I’m not really wanting to date a porn star. Or someone that encourages others to imbibe or worse yet, sits and watches people have sex all day. No thanks.
“Entertainment industry?” I repeat the words he used and I know my voice sounds squeaky, so I clear my throat. “What exactly does that mean?”
Of course, that’s right when Darinda reappears at our table. She’s got a large tray with our food atop it. I have no doubt she heard my question judging by the twitch of her lips. Part of me wants to look at her defiantly, but instead I refuse to make eye contact.
“Yes, entertainment. I’m a- “
His sentence gets cut off when his phone rings - the sound loud enough to cause me to jump a little in my seat. I’m even more surprised when he takes it from his pocket and looks at it. I mean, I suppose he needs to make sure it’s not an emergency, but I admit to feeling a bit annoyed.
“Oh, I have to take this. I’m sorry, but it’s a call I’ve been waiting for - a prospective client.”
“Right now?” I ask anyway, not able to help myself. He just shrugs so I nod.
Strike three. Definitely strike three. How soon can I get out of here?
What happens next, makes my mouth fall open and I’m grateful there isn’t food inside as it would have fallen right out. From a bag I didn’t even notice he has he pulls a large oversized tie and pulls it over his head like a necklace. “Come on, come on,” he mutters to himself as he hurriedly reaches and grabs for another item. All while his phone continues to ring.
Next, he quickly pulls out a curly red wig and yanks it over his hair.
Lastly, he pulls a red round nose from his pocket and places it on his nose.
“Got it,” he mutters as he answers the call.
Looking. Like. A. Clown.
It all happens so fast; my head is spinning.
I know I’m staring.
Gaping.
What the hell kind of joke is this?
“Well, hello there!” The sound of his voice changes to sound silly and higher pitched than before. He’s holding his phone in front of his face, so it’s clear he’s on FaceTime, and I can hear the voice on the other end laugh.
I’m too horrified to find the humor.
I’m sure people around us are staring, how could they not? I can’t bring myself to look away to see if I’m right.
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to be in character on the call!” The female voice on the other end of the phone says.
